Page 41 of Save You (Maxton Hall #2)

Lydia

The dress that Ember has conjured up is dreamy.

It’s short-sleeved, with a bodice in a floaty, champagne-colored fabric.

She’s attached a tulle skirt dotted with little flowers—similar to Ruby’s—that falls from right under the bust. It has a gentle drape and it’s cut to hide my stomach as much as possible.

I’m fairly certain Ember knows but, weirdly, I don’t feel bad about that.

“I think we need to get going,” Ruby says, glancing at the clock on my desk. It’s dark wood with gilt patterns on the shimmering dial. Dad gave it to me for my tenth birthday. God knows why I still have it standing there. It’s not like it’s even particularly attractive, but I can’t part with it.

“Lydia?” Ember’s voice from right beside me snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Are you OK?” she asks cautiously. Ember has the exact same eyes as Ruby: green and penetrating. Sometimes I get the feeling that both sisters can see right into a person’s heart.

“Yes, fine.” I beam at her. “James and Percy must’ve been waiting twenty minutes by now. We really should go down.”

Ember nods, but her expression is still thoughtful.

“Thanks again for the pamper session, Lydia,” Ruby says. “It was just what we needed after all the stress of getting ready.” She walks over to give me a quick hug.

“It’s thanks to you two that I have something decent to wear, so that was the least I could do,” I reply.

I booked hair and makeup stylists to get Ruby, Ember, and me red-carpet ready. A red carpet for fairies, of course. Or for Shakespeare in person.

We walk down to the hallway together, where James and Percy are waiting. They’re chatting, and I hear Percy laugh. The sound moves me. It’s the first time in ages that I’ve seen the two of them this lighthearted.

James turns and his eyes instantly rest on Ruby. They light up, as they do practically anytime he sees her or speaks to her.

“You all look beautiful,” he says as Percy holds my coat for me to slip into.

“You say that every time,” I tell James.

He just shrugs, his eyes still fixed on Ruby. She does a twirl and smiles widely at him. “I feel like a princess.”

“You look like one,” James replies, caressing her cheek, then bending to give her a gentle kiss.

“I still don’t know if I should find that sweet or disgusting,” Ember murmurs beside me.

“It’s sweet,” I say, almost without thinking about it. “It’s so much better than seeing the pair of them being miserable.”

Ruby

When we were watching the fifteen artificial trees being set up in Boyd Hall yesterday afternoon, I thought we’d made a huge mistake. By daylight, it looked weird, too big, anything but atmospheric. But as I look around now, I breathe a sigh of relief.

The soft light of the lanterns and candles, the scattered petals in blues and lilacs, and the gentle classical music being played by the school orchestra are creating a fairy-tale atmosphere, and the guests in their florals and pastels clearly feel at ease.

“Ruby, this looks amazing.” Lydia sighs beside me.

“It’s really beautiful,” Ember agrees.

She points to the wooden swing hanging from one of the trees.

The photographer is standing beside it, ready to take a photo of the couple who are getting themselves into position.

The girl holds on to the flower-entwined ropes, and her boyfriend stands behind her with his hands on top of hers. It’s dreamily romantic.

“We all have to get a photo taken together later on,” Lydia says.

“Didn’t I say it would be worth coming?” I ask before I start automatically looking around for Lin. I need to ask her if she’s spoken to the caterer and checked the buffet. But before I can go to look for her, James lays his hand gently on my back.

I look inquiringly up at him.

“I know exactly what you want to do right now. But your shift doesn’t start for”—he glances at his watch—“another hour.”

“Did you check?” I ask in amusement.

He nods. “So now you belong to me and not to the canapés, Ruby Bell.”

The next moment, he pulls me away from Lydia and Ember.

I just about manage to glance back at them before I have to face the way I’m going to avoid stepping on my dress.

At first I think James is leading me to the bar, but then he does a detour in the direction of the swing.

Another couple has just struck a pose, and we wait a few paces behind the photographer.

I grin up at James. “Seriously? I remember the days when you were bored to death by our parties,” I remark. “And now you want a couple-y photo as a souvenir?”

“You know why they bored me,” I hear James say, right into my ear. I get goose bumps.

“You weren’t bored, really,” I say. “Admit it. It was all a facade and you were actually seriously impressed by the DJ at the Back-to-School party and just jealous that you hadn’t booked him for one of your own house parties.”

James snorts. “Exactly.”

Suddenly, he leans in and runs his lips down my cheek and jaw. I shiver as he presses a kiss on the spot behind my ear.

“You really do look beautiful,” he murmurs, and I feel his warm breath on my skin. The goose bumps spread over my whole body, and I’m about to open my mouth to return the compliment when the photographer’s voice makes me jump.

“Next,” he calls out, sounding bored. When he sees me in the queue, he raises an eyebrow. “Oh, hello, Ruby.”

Mr. Foster and I have known each other as long as I’ve been doing events stuff at Maxton Hall.

He does all the official event photography for the school website and blog, and the newsletter that Lexington sends out once a month.

He’s a pro, and I’m all the more impressed that he’s prepared to spend the evening taking these Polaroid swing photos.

“Evening, Mr. Foster,” I say.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the opportunity to photograph you before,” he muses aloud, pointing to the swing. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, sitting down as James comes to stand behind me, one hand on the rope and the other on my back. Even through my dress, I can feel his warmth. My body tingles again, and I wonder if this feeling of excitement at being close to him will ever fade. I hope not.

“Smile!” says the photographer, but there’s no need—I can’t help myself.

We’re given the Polaroid snap and James shakes it dry before we look at it.

“That’s so cheesy!”

I’m sitting on this flowery swing with James behind me, and I bet every couple here will have the exact same photo taken by the end of the evening.

And I already know that I’ll grin every time I see this photo for the rest of my life.

“I like it,” says James.

He smiles and slips it into his jacket pocket. Then he lifts his hand to stroke my cheek with his fingertips. I get the impression he’s not even really aware that he’s doing it. As he pulls his hand away, I’d love to hold it there and snuggle my cheek into his palm.

“Shall we dance?” I ask instead. I have to do something to get the heat that his gentle, matter-of-fact touch has fanned in my body under control.

James’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You want to dance of your own free will?”

I nod and take his hand. Before I can change my mind, I pull him onto the dance floor, among the other couples who are already moving slowly to the music.

I lay one hand on James’s shoulder and start to move with him. This time I’ve come prepared, and I watched some videos with Ember, but I soon realize that there’s no need to worry about where to put my feet. James and I are just swaying to and fro.

“At the start of the year, I’d never have dreamed I’d be here. With you,” James murmurs close to my ear. “I’m so grateful.”

His words send warmth flooding through me. “I’m grateful to have you too, James.”

We keep moving throughout the slow dance.

After a while, I raise my hand to stroke the back of his neck.

James pulls me so close to him that you couldn’t slip a sheet of paper between us.

I can feel his breath on my body. His breathing is as uneven as mine.

When I slip my other hand from his and wrap my arms around his neck, James inhales sharply.

His hands wander over my waist and stroke my sides. I gulp hard and shut my eyes.

Then I feel James’s lips brush my hairline.

“James…” I whisper, slowly opening my eyes again.

He’s looking at me through half-closed eyes. I hold my breath, drink in the sight of him. His beautiful eyes, the gentle curve of his lips.

“Ruby…” he says hoarsely.

And then I can’t resist a second longer. I stand on tiptoes and he comes to meet me.

As our lips touch, it’s like pure electricity shooting through my body. This is how it always is with James. I can’t describe it, but a single kiss from him is enough to turn my world upside down and make me forget everything around me.

James strokes his tongue gently over my bottom lip and I allow him in. I bury my hands in his hair and feel his groan against my lips.

“God, get a room,” says a cutting voice beside us.

James pulls away and I blink several times. Then I look over James’s shoulder and see Camille dancing with a guy from our year. She rolls her eyes.

“We’re awful,” I mumble, burying my face in James’s shoulder.

Suddenly, I notice him stiffen. “What…?”

I look up. James is staring at something behind me, and I turn to follow his gaze.

Mr. Sutton just walked onto the dance floor with a woman.

“Isn’t that our tutor from the Oxford study group?” I ask.

“Philippa Winfield,” James murmurs. He always remembers names—even of people he’s only met once. I think it’s the kind of thing that gets drilled into you as the heir to a major business.

“They seem pretty friendly,” I say as Mr. Sutton puts his arm around Pippa. She smiles at him—her high heels mean they can look straight into each other’s eyes—and then leans in to whisper something in his ear, which makes him laugh. It sounds shy, very different from the way he laughs in lessons.

“Fuck,” James breathes at the same moment that Mr. Sutton looks over Pippa’s shoulder and his cheerful expression dies away.

It’s not long before I see why.

Lydia.

She’s standing close to the dance floor and saw the whole thing. Now she turns on her heel and leaves the hall through one of the rear doors.

I want to go to her, but James is holding me back by the hand. Before I can ask him why, he nods in the direction that Lydia just fled.

Mr. Sutton is running after her.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” I ask hesitantly.

James’s face is unreadable. “The two of them have to talk eventually. And I think they’d rather be left alone right now.”

James knows Lydia better than anyone, so I trust him.

“I don’t want her to get hurt,” I mumble.

That makes James glance warmly at me. “She’s got this. I’m sure of that.”

The certainty in his words and the way he’s suddenly looking at me give me the impression that it’s not just Lydia he’s thinking of.

For the first time since I met him, he seems to have faith in his own happiness. And that makes me very happy too.